


Anne Marie

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Other, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-09
Updated: 2008-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Remus reflects on his daughter





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Title: Anne Marie  
Author: Immortal Aussie  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Rating: FRT  
Summary: Remus reflects on his daughter  
Challenge: 7 Musical Muses on Remus Lupin  
Prompt: Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns ‘N’ Roses  
Word Count: 190

Five years ago my beautiful wife Jessica gave birth to our one and only child, our daughter Anne Marie Lupin. Whenever she smiles it lights up her face like the sun on a bright day reminding me of childhood memories before I was bitten by the werewolf. Before that disastrous event every day was as fresh as the bright blue sky. Whenever I see her beautiful face it takes me back to the good times of my childhood. If I think of her face to long I’d probably break down and cry, sweet child o’ mine.

She’s got her mothers eyes which are the same colour as the bluest skies. I hate looking into her eyes and seeing any pain as she’s my sweet child. Her hair is the colour of wet straw and always reminds me of a warm safe place it is so thick. The place it reminds me of is of a cave were I would hide as a child and pray for the thunder and the rain to pass me by. Wherever my darling Anne goes I will follow as she’s the sweet child o’ mine


End file.
